Henry Russell searched along the streets for Charlotte Cooper for a while, but couldn't find her. He tried calling her, but no one answered. Henry's heart was filled with both urgency and worry.
Where could she have gone? With the heavy rain outside, she probably wouldn't be able to get a taxi, right? The more Henry thought about it, the more anxious he became. He shouldn't have stopped her from going home earlier.
It seemed that only in moments of extreme worry and regret could a person forget all their hatred and truly care for someone, just like Henry did now.
From a distance, Henry saw a figure lying on the road. He hurriedly stopped the car, and sure enough, it was Charlotte. Henry would never admit how worried and guilty he felt at that moment, as it was he who had brought this upon her.
Looking at Charlotte, her forehead soaked and feverish from the rain, Henry felt as if his heart was being ruthlessly sliced apart.